Wrong Place, Wrong Time
by Spartangal22
Summary: No job, no girlfriend, and living with his (admittedly great) parents, Glenn reflects on exactly where he's going with his life and makes a decision. Set before the ZA.
"It's not like there's anything _wrong_ with working for an independent company. I mean, everyone has to start somewhere, right? But it's kinda risky, you know? Like, they could go belly-up by the end of the year and then I'm exactly where I am right now. But my folks want me to take it. 'A job is a job,' my dad told me yesterday. Again. And he's not wrong, I guess. I mean, it's better than nothing. I just feel like I could make it in Atlanta. They think I'm nuts, but they have no idea how this field works, you know? I don't _have_ to have a job when I go out there. I could bus tables or something and look around. _That_ went over well at the dinner table, by the way. 'I paid $50,000 a year so you could _look around_?' I thought my dad was going to kill me. Or have a heart attack. Or both."

Glenn popped a cashew in his mouth and turned off his headset. Owen wouldn't even notice. The last thing Glenn had added to the conversation had been the opening line - "How's it going?" - and his friend hadn't shut up since. Glenn liked Owen; they'd been roommates in Ann Arbor for four years, but if Glenn had to listen to him complain about which career path to follow, he'd throw the headset out the window. And possibly jump out with it.

He glanced over to the framed diploma on the wall and rolled his eyes. Owen's dad might have paid $50,000 for Owen to look around, but Glenn had paid his own (in-state) tuition, so now he had no job and no money in his bank account. He did have were good parents, who were more than willing to let him crash in his old bedroom. And the bedroom had an Xbox. And Glenn had a lot of time to kill.

Owen had graduated with a degree in graphic design, which he'd chosen at the end of his sophomore year because he "liked video games." Turned out to be more work than he expected, but it only took him an extra year and a half to get the degree. Glenn, on the other hand, had gone to the University of Michigan knowing exactly what he wanted to get out of it: a statistics degree and a girlfriend.

He was one for two upon graduation, but batting zero in the real world. Statisticians, he'd discovered as he sat through job interview after useless job interview, were most valued if they had a Master's degree. Or, better yet, a PhD. But to get either, he needed money. And to get money, he needed a job. And to get a job…

Well, at least he had an Xbox.

What drove Glenn nuts about the whole situation was that he was _smart_. Smarter, he knew, than Owen. Owen, who had three job offers in the state of Michigan, two in Illinois, and was considering moving to Atlanta to "try his luck with the big boys" while Glenn ate leftovers out of his parents' fridge. (No complaints on that front, though - his mom was a hell of a cook.)

Smart wasn't good enough, though; he needed experience. He had plenty of work experience, just none in his field. He'd had to pay for college somehow, and while other kids were doing their time as unpaid interns to boost their resumes, Glenn had been a lifeguard, a tutor, a waiter, and a bag boy at Meijer's. But his experience wasn't in his _field_ , so it didn't matter.

One degree wasn't enough; he needed two. And _what for?_ What would two or three or four more years studying the _same exact stuff_ prove to anyone? Glenn chucked his empty soda can at the wall. "Absolutely nothing," he muttered.

"What was that?" Glenn jumped, spinning around. His mom laughed. "Did I scare you? You should try to pay a little more attention to what's going on around you, you know. It's the same for all kids your age. I blame cell phones…"

"What are you doing?" Glenn cut off the 'technology and social media is destroying our society' rant before it could begin.

"Laundry. Do you have darks to wash?"

"I can do my own laundry, Mom."

"I know you can," she said, plucking a dirty shirt off the floor. "But I'm doing ours anyway so I'll just throw it all in."

Glenn sighed. "Thanks."

She stumbled as she stood, steadying herself on the wall, her hand knocking his diploma sideways. She straightened it, smiling, while Glenn sat in his beanbag chair, playing Halo, watching his mother collect his laundry.

"Glenn?" He blinked. His mom was staring at him, a crease forming between her eyes. "Is something wrong?" He opened his mouth, shut it again, and shrugged. "Okay, well, dinner'll be done in half an hour."

"I'm sorry," Glenn blurted out as she made towards the door.

His mom stopped. "What for?"

"For moving back in with you guys. For making you do my laundry."

His mom raised an eyebrow. "You're not _making_ me do anything. And you don't have anything to apologize for, Glenn. We have no problem having you here. I think your dad likes having someone to watch football with again, even if the team can't win a game. We're your parents. We're supposed to help you out. And, one day, when we're old and decrepit, you can repay the favor by not putting us in a nursing home."

Glenn cracked a smile at that, but her words didn't little to ease the knot in his stomach. "What if I can't find a job?" He was embarrassed to even say the words, and stared intently at the video game screen as his player crawled beneath a dumpster.

"You'll find one," his mom answered reassuringly. "You've done everything right, Glenn. Sometimes it's just comes down to good luck and good timing. And right now..." She paused.

"I have neither?" He finished for her grimly.

She pressed her lips together to contain a smile. "That will change."

"Yeah, right," he grumbled.

His mom ruffled his hair affectionately. "Everything happens for a reason, Glenn. One day you'll be in the right place at the right time and everything will fall into place."

Unless it didn't.

When he remained silent, she sighed. "You have the rest of your life to work. For now, just have fun on your game." The door swung shut behind her.

When he was little, his mom could make everything better. She could kiss a cut and make it stop hurting, warm him up on a cold day with hot chocolate and marshmallows. After a bad day at school, she could do a terrible impersonation of the neighbor chasing his dog around and make him laugh. He used to think she had some sort of mystical "Mom" power (because she'd told him she did, once, when he was three.)

Apparently that power had worn off.

 _Stupid game_ , Glenn thought. _Stupid diploma, stupid school that got me nowhere, stupid Owen with all his_ -

"Oh, shit." Glenn flicked the headset back on.

"You know, I think I just talked myself into it."

Glenn grinned. "Uh-huh."

"You think? Man, I'm glad to hear you say that, man. Nice to have some outside perspective, you know?"

"For sure."

"Alright. I'll tell my folks, then. They'll be thrilled. Maybe I'll move back in with them, like you did. I mean, what's the point of spending money on a place to live when they're so close. I don't think they'd mind, for a little while, at least. Yours don't, right? They were pretty cool with it?"

Glenn hit the power button and turned the game off, ignoring the, "Hey! What happened?" on the other end of the headset. "No."

"No, what? Your parents aren't okay with having you back? If you need a place to stay, you can-"

"Don't take the job. Any of them," Glenn said. "Get the hell out of Michigan and go to Atlanta. Take a risk." He paused. "And I'll come with you."

"What?"

Glenn sat up a little straighter. "Yeah, I'll come too. Apartment's are expensive, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah! Man, that's a great idea! It'll be like college all over again. Except instead of skipping classes, I'll be showcasing my portfolio and instead of studying you'll be…Uh, what'll you do? No offense, man, but you don't really have the money for an apartment. That's why you're with your parents, right?"

"I'll get a job," Glenn said for the hundredth time in the last three months, but this time he meant it. Forget statistics. Forget the degree and the University of Michigan. He could drive a car, type on a computer, ask, _do you want fries with that?_ Any idiot on the streets could get hired _somewhere_. He just needed to step out on to the streets. Of Atlanta.

Glenn smiled. This was a plan. Not a good plan, maybe, but a plan. Get out, make a change, maybe find a little bit of good luck. Right time, right place, and all that.

Now he just had to tell his parents he was moving out.

Now he just had to tell them goodbye.

* * *

 **This was inspired by and dedicated to iamgodsgirl7, who put the idea in my head about writing a pre-ZA Glenn character study. It took forever, but it was a fun challenge. I own nothing.**


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